I finally unpacked the books
Boxes and boxes of dusty tomes
Carefully examining each one
Before selecting the proper shelf.
It has been years
Since I last read them
As I felt each cover
And thought about the past.
Much has happened
And much has changed
Moving from one place to another
Unable to relax and settle.
I think of the people
Who gave me each one
Where I was in life
And what I thought
At the time.
Each one a window
On the world
A physical snapshot of time
Through the minds of the living
And the dead.
An unchanging string of thoughts
That we can interpret for ourselves
Looking through our own eyes
And time.
Circumstances change
But ideas are something else
Structured through a conduit
Of reason, logic, and values.
The archetypes of philosophy
Spread out before me
Enshrined in a civilization
Suicidal and blind.
We can chant all we want
And we can deny it a thousand times
But what is
Still happens
And becomes stronger each day.
Priceless and irreplaceable
The essential search for meaning
Without it
We are nothing
But beasts in a field.
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